


Damn Straight

by tentacle_cookies



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil is Mostly Human, Drinking, Fear of Discovery, First Time, Gay, Gay Bar, Gay Sex, Internalized Homophobia, Lapdance, M/M, SO GAY, Self-Acceptance, Self-Denial, Sexual Tension, Shyness, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Tattooed Cecil, cuteness, nervous Carlos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-15 08:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4600650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentacle_cookies/pseuds/tentacle_cookies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before coming to Night Vale, Carlos never questioned his sexuality. Why should he? He already knew he was straight.</p><p>But a certain radio host begs to differ.</p><p>The following (unlikely) events change Carlos' life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Can't Think Straight

When does one discover their sexual orientation? Is it some huge, Earth-shattering event? 

For those unprepared, the discovery can be jarring.

Carlos the Scientist did not expect the discovery to come at all. He was raised like most boys: encouraged to like girls.

For the first few decades of his life, Carlos identified as straight; Of course, he never bothered testing this assumption. He didn’t look for a girlfriend. With all of the science classes and clubs in his curriculum, he had no time. 

There were tons of pretty girls in college. None of them caught his eye. Carlos’ mother assured him that, someday, Miss Right would appear.

Carlos was single when he arrived in Night Vale. On that same day, he heard somebody take an interest in him.

That somebody was another man. He announced that he was in love with him over the radio.

“I fell in love instantly,” crooned the deep voice.

Carlos dropped a beaker at the statement, spilling a corrosive chemical on the lab floor. After hastily covering the scorch mark with a rug, he took off his goggles and ran outside.

He went to the studio to confront the announcer. He threw open the door, red in the face.

“Oh! Hello there,” said the same voice Carlos had heard minutes ago, “I’m Cecil! It’s great to finally meet you, I was at your press conference, and I--”

“Cecil,” Carlos cut him off, “what kind of stunt are you pulling?”

“Stunt? Is that some kind of colloquialism from your hometown?” he smiled, meeting Carlos’ eyes.

Carlos had difficulty holding his earnest gaze. What kind of person made a fool of a stranger then played dumb about it?

“Anyway, I’m the community radio host,” Cecil continued. “And, like I said, I was at your press conference earlier. It’s great that you think our little town is so interesting! I was hoping to get an interview with you sometime,” and here, he finally broke eye contact to glance down, “maybe over coffee?”

Carlos was taken aback. Was he still teasing him? There were no other people in the room. There was no reason to uphold the joke. That left only one explanation: he was serious.

“Cecil,” Carlos said, running a hand through his hair with a deep sigh. Now he really couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Yes, Carlos?” 

His eager smile was too much. The whole situation was too much. Carlos’ face burned.

“I’m not gay,” he said to the wall behind Cecil. He didn’t want to see the hurt on the man’s face.

“What?” Cecil sounded confused. “Yes you are.”

Carlos faced him then. He was being looked down at with concern. Cecil's eyebrows were drawn in over bright, searching eyes. His lips were turned down at the corners in a slight pout.

Carlos caught himself staring and looked away quickly.

“Goodbye, Cecil,” he said, hustling away before Cecil could say another word.

Once he was back at home, Carlos threw himself on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Why was his stomach churning? He wanted to vomit, or laugh, or cry until he died of dehydration.

He was so confused. Cecil had said it so blatantly, like a plain fact. They had only just met—they knew nothing about each other.

Carlos stood then, going to the bathroom to look in the mirror. He didn’t look gay. At least, not the way gay men looked on the TV back at home. What would his parents think of the accusation?

What would Night Vale think of this whole thing? He was there on a scientific conquest, and now he was nothing but a local joke.

Cecil was so open. He was so honest. Cecil was so caring, and kind, and handsome.

Carlos smacked his forehead at the last thought. Why would he think that?

In an attempt to prevent any other thoughts, Carlos went back to the lab. Work was the best distraction, after all.

Three minutes back into his experiment, his phone rang. The caller ID displayed “Rochelle.”

He answered: “Hi, Rochelle. What’s going on?”

“Carlos, you need to get outside now. Our equipment is going crazy all of a sudden. There ought to be a huge spike in radiation, but nothing else seems to have changed.”

Carlos asked a few questions and hung up, grabbing his bag of equipment on the way outside.

His Danger Meter immediately began squealing, indicating high probability of disaster. He turned this way and that, trying to pinpoint a source. He followed the spikes several blocks, until he stood in the parking lot of the Ralph’s.

The meter was practically sparking with energy, and the reading was as high as possible. He jogged towards the store, worried about the civilians inside.

Nothing dangerous came into sight as he ran through the store. Shoppers looked at him curiously. He exited through the back door, the meter still going off.

There, on the edge of the scrublands, was a hole. Not a gopher hole, or a hole dug by a shovel. This hole was large enough for several humans to comfortably fit through. Lights undulated from deep within, revealing a slope downward.

Carlos took a moment to steady his nerves, and went into the hole.

As he carefully descended, the danger meter began to quiet down. Then, the ground leveled out to a smooth, earthen hallway, and the meter went completely still.

Carlos kept walking. He had to find out what was going on down there. The lights were brighter now, and a rhythmic thumping shook the earth.

He turned a corner and his feet met tile. The lights blinded him momentarily, but when his eyes focused, he only grew more confused.

Before him stood a large, open cavern-- Or rather, a large, open room. The stone had been polished into smooth, glittering walls and a ceiling. Several stalactites remained, wrapped in strings of metallic beads 

The lights were inorganic. They had been drilled into the ceiling at regular intervals, providing a colorful, flashy atmosphere.

The booming echoes he had heard turned out to be music. More specifically, dance music, which was coming from large speakers in the corners.

After taking in all of this, Carlos noticed the crowd. At least a hundred people had to be there, milling about or sitting at tables. Some sat at a bar made of carved stone off to one side.

Carlos figured that someone behind the counter could help explain this all, and wandered over.

“Excuse me,” he said to the man there.

The bartender looked up from his blender with an amused expression.

“Sorry, Mr. Scientist. Even local celebrities can’t cut in line,” he laughed, but not in a mean way. Then he winked. “I’ll get to you as soon as I can, ‘kay?”

After a pause, Carlos nodded. Tired from all the previous running and panic, he sat down.

“Carlos?” said a familiar voice.

Carlos turned, only to be inches from the face of Cecil Palmer.

He blushed furiously and leaned back as quickly as he could. They could have accidentally kissed! What was this guy’s problem?

“Oh dear, I’m sorry,” Cecil said, “it’s so crowded in here. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just… Not to be rude, or anything, but why are you here?”

“I wanted to find out what was happening down here,” Carlos answered, unable to resist discussing his experiments, “my equipment was attracted to something here, so I followed it.”

“Your…equipment?” Cecil repeated.

Before Carlos could clarify, the bartender interrupted.

“Here, Mr. Scientist, this one’s on us,” he said, setting a margarita in front of Carlos.

He then returned to the throng of patrons waiting for more drinks.

“Wh--Hey, wait…” Carlos stuttered, before giving up. He just couldn’t piece this together. What was the meaning of all this? He could feel Cecil watching him, making it even harder to think.

“Carlos, I don’t want to seem pushy,” said Cecil, “but you can relax. There’s nothing wrong with being here. I get it, you’re curious.”

“Very curious," he affirmed, "But you’re right. There doesn’t seem to be any danger here aside from hearing damage,” he leaned into his chair and tried the drink. It was actually pretty good.

Cecil giggled. Carlos hadn’t meant to be funny, but he smiled, a bit pleased.

“I’ll be right back, Carlos,” Cecil said, standing from his chair. He gave one of those sweet smiles. “Don’t worry about anything.”

Carlos stared at his drink. Again, there was the churning in his stomach.

He was given no time to contemplate what he felt, though, as the crowd became noisy.

The music rose to a deafening volume, and the bar patrons moved towards the furthest corner of the room. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something, and Carlos followed suit.

The crowd, now more like a mob, was standing below a raised platform of stone. The ledge rose to Carlos’ hip, and strange posts extended down from the ceiling to the plateau.

Just as Carlos neared understanding, he saw a velvet curtain swishing aside from a previously hidden passage. People began walking out onto the platform. They strutted in time with the music, with a purpose. There were a dozen of them, dressed flashily but scantily, on the—

On the stage. The brick wall of epiphany hit Carlos hard.

He was in a strip club.


	2. Can't Keep a Straight Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After following the readings on his Danger Meter, Carlos finds himself in a gay strip club.
> 
> But he's not gay, he swears.
> 
> Cecil doesn't believe him.

Carlos was panicking. His brain was working double-time to work out what was happening.

He had made his way into an underground strip club. He’d chased readings from his Danger Meter down a hole out back of the Ralph's. He had been oblivious.

But now, it all made so much sense. The flashing lights, the earth-shaking music, the bar, the stage. There were a dozen people dancing half-naked, for god’s sake. The nature of the place should have been clear at first glance. Carlos felt so stupid.

The rest of the patrons seemed perfectly at ease. None of them gave Carlos so much as a second glance. Some smiled or nodded to him as he turned in place, taking it all in.

The crowd was so thick; he’d have to push through to escape. He felt claustrophobic, it was all too much. Carlos’ mind was racing.

Just when he was sure he’d black out, he chanced a look back at the stage. The dancers twirled about the poles, smiling at the crowd and enjoying themselves.

Some were men, some were women, and some, Carlos’ couldn’t be sure. But they were all beautiful. Even as they performed a cohesive routine, they had their own individual styles. He couldn’t see all of their faces clearly, but they radiated confidence.

As he watched their undulating bodies and flowing limbs, he recognized that there was no need to panic. He was an adult, after all. He was allowed into bars and strip clubs. He didn’t have to be afraid of this place.

And beyond that, he had ventured down in pursuit of scientific discovery. Regardless of the venue, he decided, science took priority. He relaxed.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen and everyone in between,” came a voice over the speakers, “time for some quality time with our dancers. Grab a chair and get out your wallets. They’re coming out to see you!”

The crowd around Carlos began to disperse as easily as they had gathered. They claimed chairs and barstools in preparation for whatever was coming.

Carlos stood in place. The dancers were doing what, now?

The people from the stage hopped down onto the floor one by one, movements synched with the beat. They strutted their way out into the club. Patrons waved cash and called the dancers by name. Carlos watched as a woman began dancing flirtatiously in front of a customer.

Were they doing lap dances? Was that what the announcer had meant? He made his way to an isolated corner table. He was here for research, not for his own pleasure.

“Hey, Mr. Scientist,” said a woman.

Carlos looked up, cursing himself for not hiding better. He didn’t even have his wallet out! Why did she have to choose him?

“A little shy, aren’t you,” she teased, placing his hand on her leg. “Just relax and let me do the talking.”

She danced against him, all breasts and hips. Carlos’ face burned. He couldn’t just push her away, could he? Would that be rude? He closed his eyes, hopeless.

“Lush,” said a familiar voice. “Leave poor Carlos alone, don’t you see he’s not looking for a girl?”

Carlos opened his eyes to see Cecil Palmer confronting the woman. Cecil had changed his outfit in the time since he’d been away. He now wore a zipped up, shimmering vest and a pair of shorts.

“What…” Lush looked at Carlos then at Cecil. “Oh, my. Now I’m embarrassed, how silly of me.”

She patted Carlos’ shoulder.

“Sorry about that, doll,” she said, and walked off in search of another customer.

Carlos opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to put his thoughts into words. 

Then, just as he tried to speak, he lost his train of thought. Cecil was to blame. He was swaying gracefully with the music, a little smile playing across his lips.

“I know you’re still a little scared, Carlos,” he said, carefully, “but I want you to just focus on how you feel. It’s alright to be curious. Don’t overthink it.”

Cecil started dancing more expressively. He shimmied this way and that, more languid than Lush. His pelvis seemed to be the point of origin for each wave of motion. His body rolled smoothly, a surge of personified rhythm.

“I-I… It was scientific c-curiosity, I…” Carlos sputtered incoherently. Did Cecil want Carlos to dance with him, or was he just dancing on his own?

Cecil answered the unvoiced question as he unzipped and removed his jacket in one precise, practiced move. There was no shirt underneath. Oiled, lean muscles flowed with the ongoing dance. His dark tattoos, now on full display, spiraled out from his collarbones across his whole torso.

“Scientific curiosity?” Cecil smiled. “If that’s what you like to call it, that’s fine by me.”

Carlos wanted to slap himself for his own stupidity. Of course Cecil didn’t want to dance with him—He wanted to dance on him.

Cecil was one of the strippers.

“You don’t have to feel pressured to pay me at all, Carlos, I know this is your first time,” Cecil said over the music. “Please just push me away if I get too close for your liking. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Carlos wanted to tell Cecil just how uncomfortable he was. He hadn’t asked for a lap dance. He certainly hadn’t asked for the company of a male stripper. He was flustered beyond logical thought. The whole situation was insane. Carlos had to be insane, too, for letting this go on.

But, in a strange way, he didn’t want it to stop. He felt a sense of ease with Cecil, like he could trust the man with his life. It could have been the way Cecil had stopped the female dancer, or the reassurances he offered.

He was actually enjoying Cecil’s company. And Cecil wasn’t a bad dancer at all.

Carlos stopped trying to talk. He focused on his own body in an attempt to calm himself. He started at the top and worked downwards.

His eyebrows were still raised from the shock of Cecil undressing. Carlos mindfully relaxed his facial muscles. 

Cecil was watching Carlos as he continued to move.

Carlos felt himself blushing. He noticed the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, and the pounding of his heart. A scientist had to be calm under any circumstance. He breathed deeply to slow his pulse and nodded to himself, proud at his self-control.

Cecil mistook Carlos’ nod as a signal. He grinned and tugged the waistband of his shorts, unclasping the buttons down the sides and pulling them off completely. He was left in just a tiny pair of purple spandex shorts and his shoes.

Carlos’ mind went blank. His palms were cold and sweaty. His eyebrows had risen back up. 

Cecil was dancing more sensually than before, his defined hips swiveling about. He was closer now, too, and Carlos could feel the blood rushing in his ears. He wondered how Cecil was able to move as if made of plasma when he was clearly solid matter.

Cecil leaned close and placed a hand over Carlos’.

“You can touch if you want to,” he murmured.

Carlos could hear him over the music, his deep voice distinct against the music. Cecil was defined against the blur of Carlos’ vision.

“I can…touch?” he heard himself ask. This was so surreal. It was new and unexpected.

Cecil nodded and turned deliberately in his dance.

“Touch me anywhere you want,” he said, running his hands up his own figure. The lights traced him hypnotically.

Carlos chewed his lip. He held onto his jeans, nails digging into the skin beneath. He was afraid. He wasn’t afraid of the club, or of Cecil, or even the dancing. He was afraid of himself. 

He was afraid because he found himself wanting to touch Cecil. He wanted to feel the muscles under the rolling landscape of his skin.

Surely this was normal. Guys felt each other’s biceps all the time, right? This wasn’t that different. He wasn’t gay. 

But one touch wouldn’t hurt.

He let himself reach out and rest a hand on the outside of Cecil’s thigh. Cecil smiled the same way as when they had met earlier, genuine and warm.

“See, Carlos? It’s okay,” he said, moving forward. He nudged Carlos’ legs apart to get closer.

“Yeah…” said, Carlos lamely. He felt like he was going to implode.

Cecil chuckled, rocking side to side patiently. He let Carlos knead his hip.

“Can I…” Carlos started, and then swallowed. His throat was dry. “Can I….”

He didn’t finish his question. He didn’t really know what he wanted to ask in the first place.

“Yes,” Cecil said firmly, “yes, you can. Whatever you were going to say, yes.”

Carlos looked up at Cecil. His eyes showed authentic caring; he truly wanted to give Carlos anything he asked for. Without thinking, Carlos put his other hand on Cecil’s waist.

Cecil didn’t say anything. His composure turned taut, afraid of startling Carlos or pressuring him in any way.

Carlos looked back to his hands. Cecil’s skin was even smoother than it looked. His hipbones stretched the spandex symmetrically atop each of his toned thighs, accentuated by his abstract tattoos. A thin trail of hair led from his belly button into the waistband.

Below the line of the band, Cecil’s package bulged. The shorts were pressed out over the mound, and Carlos had to look away. He swallowed again, frightened. He wanted to see underneath that waistband. 

He pulled Cecil forward into his lap.

Cecil moaned slightly, a rumbling echo in his chest.

Carlos wondered if that reaction was normal. He then found that he didn’t care, as Cecil began to writhe in his lap. He guided Carlos’ hands back onto his tight ass as his breathing became audible.

Carlos squeezed, not daring to think; Cecil had told him not to overthink. He wanted to do everything Cecil asked.

Cecil gasped at the squeeze, closing his eyes and slowing his movements. His muscles tensed up under Carlos’ grasp.

“Fuck…” Cecil breathed almost inaudibly.

“Oh god,” Carlos let out, an involuntary reaction. 

Only now did he notice the tightness in his crotch. He had an aching erection that was leaking precum, and the front of his boxers was soaked.

Cecil was looking down at him with fire in his eyes. Carlos had never been looked at that way. He’d seen girls throw him longing glances. He’d seen longing glances from men, too, he realized.

None of them had been like this. This look stopped his heart and knocked the wind out of him. It made him deaf to the bustle and beat of the surrounding club. It made one second stretch on to infinity. It singled him out while the rest of the room became slow-motioned.

Carlos let himself be sucked in by Cecil’s look. He let himself be pulled up, sitting up tall while Cecil leaned down. His whole field of vision was occupied by Cecil.

He closed his eyes.


	3. Can't See Straight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last, Carlos makes a shocking realization. Sexytimes ensue.

Carlos felt suspended in the moment.

He had been swept away in the underground club’s wild atmosphere: the pulsating lights, the gyrating bodies, the bass shaking his whole frame.

Cecil was in his lap. He had pulled Cecil close on a whim while the man had danced for him. He hadn’t thought about it. He wasn’t thinking clearly. He was confused.

Carlos wasn’t gay. Cecil thought he was, but he wasn’t.

Carlos had his hands on Cecil, feeling every bit of skin possible. There was no denying his beauty. He had warm, smooth skin inscribed with elegant tattoos. He had graceful curves and jutting angles like some sort of archaic sculpture.

Carlos could appreciate the beauty in anybody; That didn’t make him gay.

He was sitting up straight, eyes closed, letting his body lead the way. His lips were enveloped in warmth. Cecil was kissing him enthusiastically, having accepted Carlos’ nonverbal invitation. His kiss was hungry and eager.

Carlos felt Cecil’s tongue in his mouth. He couldn’t remember opening his mouth. This was all surreal to him.

He wasn’t gay. He told himself that once more.

Nevertheless, Carlos was drowning in lust. He was painfully erect. He clutched Cecil’s ass and pulled his hips down, grinding up on him.

Cecil whimpered and pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily.

“Carlos, stop…” Cecil said with difficulty.

Carlos let go as he was pulled back to reality. He opened his eyes and stared at him.

“Carlos, this is incredible, but…” Cecil giggled, then whispered into Carlos’ ear: “But if you keep that up I’m going to cum.”

Carlos sucked in a sharp breath. He looked at Cecil’s face, incredulous. The radio host was kneeling over him, a coy smile twisting his lips. He was radiating heat, but not from dancing. This specific warmth seemed caring, or accepting, or loving.

Carlos felt his face glowing with the same warmth.

Suddenly, a tidal wave of epiphany flooded his mind. It swept through his entire being, knocking down the wall he’d built.

He no longer cared what anybody thought of him. All he cared about, in that moment, was the man in his lap. All he cared about was Cecil. He only needed Cecil’s approval.

“Shit,” Carlos spat out, “I’m gay.”

That statement was all it took to sweep away Carlos’ doubt. Saying it aloud simply reaffirmed something he’d known his whole life. The world had forced him into a corner. They had made him afraid to fall in love, and without that freedom, he had suffered in silence.

Then, Cecil had shown him something wonderful. Cecil had proven that it was okay to be yourself. He had shown Carlos the beauty of pure, unbridled honesty. 

And there he was, chuckling at Carlos’ eloquence, hands on Carlos’ shoulders.

“I told you so,” Cecil said. He smiled.

He was unique, he was unashamed, and he was perfect.

Carlos pulled him close. He wanted to stay with Cecil. 

“Carlos,” Cecil said, hugging him tightly. “My boss is going to get upset with me if I don’t start dancing again soon.”

Carlos let Cecil go with great reluctance. He didn’t want Cecil to dance for anyone else. Reaching behind him, he pulled out his wallet.

“Then dance for me,” Carlos said, grinning shyly.

Cecil looked shocked for a moment. Then, recovering his composure, he grinned back and fell into rhythm with the music.

Cecil was rolling his body over Carlos again, looking down at him. Carlos tucked a $20 bill into his waistband, running a hand over his ass for good measure.

“Be careful, Mr. Scientist,” Cecil chided. “You’re getting awfully touchy.”

“I’m sorry,” Carlos said, “I’ve just…I’ve never gotten the opportunity to touch someone like this.”

Cecil stopped dancing at that. He stood up, and for a moment, Carlos thought he’d done something wrong.

“There’s a door behind the stage,” Cecil said, “meet me there in a bit.”

Carlos wanted to ask him what he was talking about, or why he had stopped dancing, but Cecil was already walking away. Cecil went to the very door he’d just specified, and disappeared inside.

Carlos slumped back into his chair and let himself think.

He was gay, no doubt about it. Not only that, but he was falling for the strangest man he’d ever met. And, to add to it, he was now left flustered and aroused by the very same man. The scenario was so bizarre, Carlos wondered if he was hallucinating.

But, then again, this town was full of bizarre things.

He rose from his chair and walked to the door Cecil had gone through. He looked around before entering, worried that the area might be off limits. Nobody noticed him, so he went in.

The door led to a normal looking hallway carved into the stone. There were several doors lining both sides. Cecil wasn’t there, so Carlos made his way down the hall. Each door had a name painted on.

Carlos realized that these must be the dancers’ dressing rooms. 

“So, I’m looking for a door that says ‘Cecil?’” he said to himself.

“Actually,” he heard Cecil say, “this one’s mine.”

Carlos looked back at the doors he’d passed. Cecil was leaning against a door painted with the name ‘The Voice.’ He was smiling excitedly.

Carlos moved towards him and, spurred forward by his arousal, kissed him.

“Hello, again,” Cecil said playfully, pulling Carlos into his dressing room. It was a small room, with a loveseat, an end table, and a lighted vanity in one corner. There were a handful of outfits on a rack against the wall.

“Hi, Cecil,” Carlos said quietly. Then, even though he knew the answer, he asked: “Why did you invite me back here?”

Cecil didn’t say anything, choosing to respond by placing a hand over the bulge in Carlos’ pants.

Carlos let out a soft noise and pushed his hips forward.

“Are you a virgin, Carlos?” Cecil asked.

“I...” Carlos blushed and cast his gaze downward, but nodded.

“Don’t worry, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that,” he assured, “I just need to know how gentle to be with you.”

Again, Carlos was astounded at the care exhibited by the radio host. How could one person hold so much goodness?

“You’re perfect,” Carlos said without thinking.

Cecil reinforced that claim, taking ahold of Carlos’ face and kissing him sweetly. Carlos kissed back and Cecil helped him out of his lab coat and shirt.

Cecil let Carlos lead the kiss, and Carlos did so clumsily. He explored Cecil’s mouth with his tongue, and nibbled on his lips, drawing out a myriad of sounds.

A particularly deep groan lead to Carlos laying them on the loveseat, Cecil spreading his legs to let Carlos as close as possible.

Carlos was unsure of exactly how to proceed. He had seen movies with sex scenes, and decided to imitate those. He moved his lips to Cecil’s ear and sucked his earlobe. He kissed down to his neck, encouraged by Cecil’s sounds. He sucked different areas, watching small pink marks bloom under his touch.

“Carlos,” Cecil whispered, running a hand through Carlos’ hair, “Carlos, you’re doing so well.”

Carlos kissed his lips and rocked his hips down, getting a little braver. The friction sent an earthquake of pleasure through him, and he began dry humping Cecil.

Cecil held Carlos’ hips and arched up to meet him. Carlos noted the signs of arousal on Cecil’s face: his flushed complexion, his dilated pupils, his heavy breathing. He was holding eye contact demurely, and Carlos became a little nervous. He stopped moving and sat up.

“Are you alright, Carlos?” Cecil asked, afraid. “What’s wrong?”

“No, Cecil, you’re amazing,” Carlos said, “Just…can you lead, please? I’m worried I’ll mess up.”

“Of course,” Cecil said, visibly relieved. He reversed their positions so that he was straddling Carlos’ hips, their erections once more pressed together. “Tell me if you want to stop, alright?”

Carlos nodded, unable to respond as Cecil rolled his hips down in slow, firm pushes. Carlos watched him move as if he were dancing. He ran his fingers along the waistband of Cecil’s shorts.

“Would you like me to get naked, sweet Carlos?” Cecil whispered, wiggling his butt back against Carlos’ hand.

Carlos nodded. He watched as Cecil stood and pulled his shorts off with practiced grace. Carlos’ blushed profusely as Cecil got back onto him, his erection now free of restraint.

Cecil rested his hand on the clasp of Carlos’ pants, rubbing.

“May I?”

Carlos nodded again, letting Cecil undo his pants and pull out his dick. Cecil stroked him a few times, and Carlos let his head loll back in pleasure.

“So sensitive…” Cecil held their erections in one hand and stroked them both.

Carlos bucked his hips up and whimpered. It felt so new; it felt so good.

They were both panting now, and Carlos sat up to kiss Cecil again, more forcefully than before. He bit Cecil’s lip and tugged, enjoying the feel of Cecil’s hand twitching over their members.

Carlos held onto Cecil’s hand and moved it up and down faster, squeezing tighter. Cecil jerked his hips intermittently; his mouth was open, letting curse words fall out.

“Oh my…oh fuck, Carlos, I can’t,” Cecil blabbered loudly, “I can’t hold on much longer like this, Carlos, I wanna cum with you.”

The dirty talk was affecting Carlos in the best way possible. He watched the other man making pained expressions as he jacked them off. He leaned forward to let Cecil’s words go right in his ear.

Between the friction, and the breathing, and Cecil’s cries, Carlos felt an orgasm building. He felt his arousal turning to a pressure in his lower stomach, waves of pleasure rolling through his frame with each move.

Cecil was saying his name with such passion. Cecil was so beautiful, intent on pleasuring them both. Cecil was just so sexy, his scientifically indescribable form silhouetted by the cheap light of the dressing room.

Suddenly, Cecil was urging Carlos to lie back on the couch. Without another word, he bent down and took Carlos’ dick into his mouth. Carlos let out a shout of pleasure and took a handful of Cecil’s hair, surprised by the sudden turn of events.

Cecil’s lips pressed along the length, throat tightening around the head. His tongue massaged the underside as he pulled back, and then he dipped it into the slit before swallowing him down again. 

Carlos involuntarily thrust into Cecil’s mouth, and he worried for a moment that he’d hurt him. A moment later, Cecil was fucking his mouth down on Carlos’ cock.

Cecil’s skilled mouth had Carlos cumming almost immediately. A shock wave erupted in Carlos, and he gasped as he reached his orgasm. He thrust up a few times, weakly, noting how Cecil continued to swallow.

He panted, spent, and sat up. He fondled Cecil’s still-hard dick and kissed him, tasting his own musk. Cecil was panting too, and he held onto Carlos’ shoulders as he was jerked to his climax.

Carlos closed his eyes and basked in the heavy aura filling the room. He lay back onto the couch, letting Cecil lay on top of him. He ran his hands gently over the other man, studying his curves.  
“How was it, Carlos?” Cecil said softly. “Was it alright?”

Carlos pet Cecil’s hair.

“It was perfect,” he said. Then, after a moment: “Cecil?”

Cecil lifted his head to meet Carlos’ gaze.

“Yes, dear Carlos?”

Carlos smiled, chuckling slightly.

“I have to tell you this now, Cecil: I’m definitely gay.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Rainbow kisses*  
> 


End file.
